


my eyes are wide like cherry pies

by honeyandviscera



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Sex, Bearded Steve Rogers, Clothed Sex, Infidelity, M/M, Minor Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers, Spit As Lube, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-27
Updated: 2019-09-27
Packaged: 2020-10-29 09:22:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20794337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeyandviscera/pseuds/honeyandviscera
Summary: “The things you do to me, kid,” Steve growls into his ear, “you have no fucking idea.”Bucky takes a deep breath, as though it could tamp down the flames burning him from the inside out. “Show me,” he says.





	my eyes are wide like cherry pies

**Author's Note:**

> **Heed the warnings and tags, please don't complain about something you know you're about to read.**
> 
> ** ETA: Apparently this is still escaping some of you. The archive warning for “underage” is clear and bolded. The additional tags are deliberately chosen and concise. I am not able to make the warnings any more obvious than they already are. Again, you know what you’re about to get into. I am no longer accepting comments from people who ignore these warnings and want to complain about something they willfully chose to read. **
> 
> Title taken from Cola by Lana Del Rey.
> 
> Unbeta'd, all mistakes are my own.

“Missed you,” Steve murmurs sweetly, same as always, though Bucky will never tire of hearing it. Steve’s lips are fixed to his neck, sucking softly where his beard had scratched Bucky’s skin red. 

“Really?” Bucky whispers back breathlessly, fisting his hands into the back of Steve’s button-down shirt. Bucky loathes the layers of fabric that separate them, wrapping his legs around Steve and grinding against him like he can make them disintegrate. He feels hot all over, warmed through and pressed into the couch cushions by the unyielding mass of Steve’s body. The lights are still on and Bucky knows he looks a kiss-drunk mess, flushed and writhing and desperate. He’s been hard since Steve got home, and now he’s panting for it.

This is the way Steve likes him.

“I always miss you,” Steve promises. “I think about you every day, every night.” He punctuates his words with little bites along Bucky’s collarbone, light enough to tease, sharp enough to have Bucky’s cock throbbing in his jeans.

“The things you do to me, kid,” Steve growls into his ear, “you have no fucking idea.”

Bucky takes a deep breath, as though it could tamp down the flames burning him from the inside out. “Show me,” he says, “fuck me.” 

“Yeah? You sure?” Steve asks, leaning back enough to look him in the eyes, then past them, like he can see right into the dirty, selfish thoughts that Bucky doesn’t dare say aloud. 

He nods anyway.

Steve sucks his lower lip between his teeth and squints across the living room at the clock mounted on the wall. “God, baby, I don’t know if we have enough time,” he says. 

“No, please, Steve, _ please, _ ” Bucky begs, grabbing Steve’s hand from where it squeezes his hip and sliding it under the thin cotton of his t-shirt. Steve’s eyes track the movement, following it as rucks Bucky’s shirt up and exposes his heated skin to cool air. “Need you. I’ve been good. Waited _ so _ long.” 

Steve exhales like it hurts. “It’s only been a week, greedy little thing,” he admonishes, tweaking Bucky’s nipple. 

He gasps, biting back a grin. “You love it, you nasty old man.”

Steve ducks his head, dropping a kiss to Bucky’s smiling mouth. “You’re right, I do. Turn over for me,” Steve instructs, shifting his weight off Bucky to give him enough room to roll onto his stomach. Bucky moves quickly, face-planting into the decorative pillows as he rushes to undo his belt and unzip his fly. Behind him, he hears Steve doing the same, and Bucky barely gets his dick positioned comfortably under him when Steve tugs his boxers down enough to expose his ass and dips spit-slick fingers into his crack. 

The first probing touch to his hole has Bucky shivering, trying to spread his thighs as far as they can go while still trapped in the confines of his jeans. “Hurry,” he pleads.

Steve shushes him, placing his other hand firmly over Bucky’s mouth. “This is gonna be fast, and you’re gonna take what I give you, and you’re not gonna make a damn sound. Understand?”

Bucky nods fervently. 

“Good boy,” Steve murmurs, slow as syrup, pushing two fingers into Bucky’s hole. 

Bucky reaches back for a handful of Steve’s hair and pulls, hard, groaning into Steve’s palm. The sudden stretch makes him tense up in a way that has Steve nuzzling at the back of his neck in an attempt to soothe him. “Deep breaths,” Steve reminds him, pumping his fingers in and out, working the muscle open. Bucky nods and screws his eyes shut, bearing down and trying to force his body to relax despite Steve nudging his prostate with every few passes. 

It isn’t long before Steve’s fingers finally withdraw and Bucky hears the filthy sound of spit. The blunt head of Steve’s cock rests at the rim of his hole, making its presence known while Steve runs a hand soothingly through Bucky’s hair. “Ready to take this?” 

Bucky shifts his hips backwards, whining impatiently. Though the sound is muffled behind Steve’s hand, it earns him a bite to the shoulder. Bucky has half a mind to bite him back, but then there’s breathtaking pressure and Steve is finally sliding into him, splitting him open, spearing him on his fat, heavy cock. It’s too dry, too rough, and Bucky whines again, louder, tears springing to his eyes.

“Come on, honey, you wanted this. Let me in,” Steve says encouragingly, mouthing at Bucky’s ear, and Bucky’s body has no choice but to yield to him, steadily opening up for Steve like the petals of a flower greeting the sun. “That’s it. Just like that. So fucking tight, fuck.”

Bucky takes a stuttering breath, heart pounding in his ears, trembling as Steve finally seats the full length of him inside. 

Bucky reaches for Steve’s free hand, desperately tangling their fingers together. Steve squeezes his hand back, and that’s all the warning Bucky gets before Steve pulls out and shoves himself back in.

Each merciless thrust drives his cock deep enough that Bucky nearly feels it in his throat, punching weak moans out of him with every breath. He can barely hear Steve’s grunted praises over the sound of his own stifled noises.

“So good, Bucky, so good for me - makes me fucking crazy, thinking about you, thinking about _ fucking _ you - but you need it just as bad, don’t you?”

He pulls Bucky up by the jaw, forcing him to arch his back, positioning him at an angle that has Steve pounding at his prostate with every snap of his hips. He nails it dead-on, and he must know, because Bucky shrieks into his hand, his whole body lighting up like a firework. 

“Christ, look at you. Always so hot for it. Need me to keep this slutty little cunt stretched out and stuffed full, is that right?” Steve says through gritted teeth as Bucky whimpers helplessly and drools over his fingers. “Yeah, I’ll give it to you, baby boy, good and hard. You take it so well, you always do.” Then Steve digs his knees into the couch, settles his full weight on Bucky’s back, and _ slams _ into him.

The pace he sets is brutal, punishing, inescapable, and Bucky's unable to move or speak or _ think _. He’s pinned in place and reduced to nothing more than a warm hole to be used, and the thought alone makes his dick twitch as it rubs against the soft fabric of the couch. It aches and leaks steadily, but he doesn’t dare reach for it, not when Steve is speeding up as Bucky clenches down around the satisfying fullness inside him. He makes do with the scant few inches the plush cushions can afford him and bounces back against Steve’s cock, relishing in the way Steve moans into his neck. 

Bucky's toes curl in his socks as he feels his orgasm building, all coiling heat and startling pleasure. He grabs Steve’s forearm with both hands, cries out and spills onto the couch under him. Steve continues to fuck him through it and Bucky squeals under the assault, spasming around Steve’s thick shaft like he intends to milk him dry. 

“Yeah, there you go. Feelin’ good, sweetheart? God, I fucking love when you come on my cock, so fucking sexy,” Steve whispers, panting as his thrusts grow erratic. “I’m close - Wanna take this load? Want me to fill up that hungry hole? Yeah, you do - Jesus, Bucky, you’re _ so _ -” 

Steve stills but his cock throbs, and Bucky can’t stop himself from grinding his hips back as he feels Steve empty himself into his ass. Steve growls again, lazily thrusting into him like it’ll bury his come deeper. Bucky jolts at the sensation, feeling slick and open, groaning until Steve slowly pulls out.

When Steve finally takes his hand off Bucky’s mouth, Bucky takes a deep, fortifying breath. He buries his face in the pillows as Steve spreads his ass apart and presses a thumb against his hole, no doubt reddened and swollen, shiny with the come that Bucky feels dripping down his perineum. He shudders.

“Does it hurt?” Steve asks softly, a jarring contrast to the harsh words he was spewing moments ago.

“A little,” Bucky admits, looking back over his shoulder at him. “You gonna kiss it better?”

Steve chuckles, but his smile quickly fades. He sits up and looks to the hallway.

Footsteps.

They scramble to set their clothes right, to put some distance between them as Steve stands by the window and Bucky slides to the floor like he was going through his backpack by the coffee table. He barely has time to throw his hoodie over the wet spot on the couch when the stairs creak and the hallway lights turn on.

“Steve, are you - Oh! James, you’re still here,” Mrs. Rogers says with a question in her eyes, tying her robe at her waist, long, dark hair still wet from the shower. 

“Yeah, sorry, um, just wanted to finish cleaning up,” Bucky explains with a tentative smile, grabbing some Lego Star Wars figures off the carpet and tossing them into a nearby basket. 

She waves a hand. “It’s quite alright. That’s something Mr. Rogers should’ve been doing, anyway,” she says, giving Steve a look.

Before Steve can say something stupid, unhelpful, or suspicious, Bucky interrupts shyly. “Elliot’s asleep, right? I made sure he was in bed by nine-thirty, but he was trying to convince me that you guys let him stay up ‘till midnight on weekends.”

Mrs. Rogers laughs good-naturedly. “We most certainly do not, but yes, he’s out like a light. Thank you again for watching him on such short notice, James.”

“No problem at all,” Bucky grins, collecting a few more toys off the floor. Every move he makes leaves him hyper-aware of the tightness in his muscles, the soreness in his legs. Hot come seeps out of his hole and trickles down the back of his thigh, wetting the seat of his boxers. “He’s a cool kid. I don’t mind hanging out with him.”

“Oh, but surely a sixteen-year-old has better things to do on a Friday night,” she teases, quirking an eyebrow. 

Bucky does not let his eyes flicker over to Steve. “Nah. This is way more fun.”

“Alright, if you say so,” Mrs. Rogers says agreeably, though unconvinced. “Darling, would you drive him home?” 

“You don’t have to, Mr. Rogers, I can walk,” Bucky says earnestly, despite knowing it’ll be a futile argument.

“Nonsense,” she insists. “I won’t let you walk thirty minutes in the cold, this late at night. Steve, please get him home safely.”

“Sure thing, Peg,” Steve says, making his way towards her. “Are you going to bed now?”

Bucky politely looks away when she pecks Steve on the lips. 

“I’ll be back soon,” he hears Steve promise. 

Mrs. Rogers bids them good night, heads back up the stairs, and leaves them alone in the living room.

After a moment, Steve settles on the arm of the couch and clears his throat. “That was too fucking close.”

“It always is, and always will be,” Bucky shrugs, looking up at him from under his lashes. “You wanna stop, _ Mr. Rogers? _”

Steve doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t have to.

“Come on, kid. Let’s get you home.” 


End file.
